More Than Memory Book Two
by AfterEver
Summary: Then Aragorn, being now the Heir of Isildur, was taken with his mother to dwell in the house of Elrond...' Here follows a continuation of their tale as begun in Book One. Features Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir, Aragorn, Ranger and Elf OCs, and of course Gilrae
1. Prologue

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Author's Note:  
This story was originally published under a different name, as a sequel to its first installment since revised. Both sections have since been renamed 'More Than Memory', Books One and Two.

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Though asleep, Gilraen retained some awareness; of the dim room, and of her son lying beside her. Yet a part of her believed, even insisted, that they were in the courtyard under daylight, and years ago. More memory than dream, her sleeping vision as clear as her waking eyes had been.

"Look at me, nana!"

Again as many times already, Gilraen replied smiling, "I see you." Her attention had been nowhere else, since Glorfindel lifted her son upon Asfaloth hours before.

It was the end of summer; every day since harvesting began, Estel would plead to visit the orchards, where Elves sang as they worked, many being particularly inclined to dance and play. Gilraen never learned what aspect of the chore so enthused them, and her son only asked to be there.

That morning, they had come across Glorfindel, immaculate upon his white steed and looking somewhat out of place as he rode down a row of trees; ladders, baskets, and toiling Elves on either side.

"Fair greetings for a fair lady," he all but sang. "Surely Elrond has not dispatched his envoy to pick apples!"

"Not to my knowledge," she replied, "and neither has he dispatched me." Serving as delegate between Rivendell and the Angle was hardly an envoy's status, Gilraen deemed; moreover, she preferred not to think of her outspoken predecessor, Telmoth, as an ambassador.

Glorfindel dismounted, mirthful at the sight of Estel dancing circles around one trunk. "Is this a good tree, young one? Since it is now graced with your affection, I think I too should prefer it, and have my duty fulfilled." Producing several white ribbons, he began binding the cloth to prominent branches.

Gilraen considered this odd deed, but came to no conclusions. Glorfindel only smiled at her inquiry before calling to those nearby, "Hear ye Elves, this is the chosen one! Leave it be!"

Tradition then, it must be some elvish tradition, and immortals must accumulate scores of them. Would they abandon those oldest, or avoid making many anew, lest every day become an event? Her son danced again, twirling one of Glorfindel's ribbons through the air. Maybe daily cause for celebration is what keeps some Elves so merry.

She might have woken during these thoughts, or imagined her son's sleeping face, who soon smiled again upon a white steed.

Estel was overjoyed to ride unaccompanied for the first time, and to think that he commanded the horse, although Glorfindel had walked beside directing Asfaloth all along.

"Yaw!" her son cried. "Ha-yaw!" Asfaloth simply completed the circle he paced to pause at Glorfindel's other side. "He does not go..." Estel eyed the meadow beyond the courtyard.

Laughing, Glorfindel said, "No! Because no such request was made. But I think he, and your mother, would consent to another go _round_." Instructed by a hand gesture, Asfaloth began another loop.

Gilraen suspected that her son might complain, demand adventure; instead he called to her, waving. "Nana, look at me!"

"I see you."

So she said, yet this time her eyes focused elsewhere. In that instant, Arathorn stood beyond, clear but colorless, and unobstructed until Asfaloth passed in front. Then the apparition was gone, replaced by Elrond, who should rightly be there, if the dream obey memory. He spoke words lost upon her; on the brink of waking, she wondered if she had listened then, either, or had she thought to see her husband first.

Glorfindel looked at her, attentive enough that she fell deeply asleep once more. Guessing his question, she nodded her approval. It was only a few yards to where Elrond stood, and Asfaloth had demonstrated exceptional temperament.

To ride even that short distance alone thrilled Estel; it seemed all he could do to sit still for the duration. Once arrived, he explained the extent of his accomplishment to Elrond, who held Asfaloth's headstall until Glorfindel arrived to check that none of Estel's clothing had caught on the saddle before helping him down.

She had come to expect such care and familiarity -- but not what came after.

"There you are, child, back on your feet. Now run along to your _ada_, tell him what you learnt is a good way to pluck apples from high branches!"

That Glorfindel meant well did not change how she hated the moment, as her stomach fell with the weight of the dead, and a chill set in, pending Estel's reaction. Would he be struck with remembrance, and weep for Arathorn? If he did, would Elrond weep for rejection? No, impossible nonsense: one was too young to remember, the other too old to cry.

The silence lasted only a heartbeat, if the consequence would last forever. Estel went forward and began the tale of picking apples from horseback, calling Elrond father for the first time, as he would do thereafter.

Arathorn had not been replaced, she realized; merely blocked from her sight. Still he stood there, revealed again as Elrond knelt. Neither his deathless face nor his unmarred eyes mirrored any expression. All he held was a white ribbon in one hand held out to her. An urge to take it from him consumed her, wanting nothing more. Her muscles burned with the effort to move, to go to him. He shook his head and backed away, fading a little further even as Gilraen managed to sit up.

She sat staring ahead; he might reappear if she quit struggling. The notion that he was dead lingered just beyond her awareness. Wall, window, doorway, nighttime now, and unreal. Alone in bed, every movement took slow effort, as though her body was numb, or her will. Unable to force herself awake, she left the room to find her son, loath to be parted from him, even in a dream.

From the hall window she observed the courtyard below, where walked a procession of hooded figures. One looked up at her, faceless. This had happened one High Day; then the smiling Elf who spotted her raised a candle in salute. This void just stared.

Turning away, now the hallway was a row of trees on each side. One tree stood alone, adorned with white ribbons. Tradition. She vaguely recalled the eventual explanation: that it was custom for the Lords in residence to harvest the fruit of one tree together each year.

The dream made its own ritual. A stale breeze folded the white over to red, which then bled to black under cloudless rain. Amid the swaying branches, she could barely discern a streaked face, beardless and solemn, grey hair in contrast to the black ribbons. Fifteen hung already, and the person held one more, raising cloth to lips before tying it off with thin hands.

Another breeze swept the scene away as so much ash.

Finally, Gilraen could wake. She kept her eyes closed, grateful for sightlessness in place of seeing. Under the light of day, such images would shrink away to sleep themselves until her next restless night. Reaching out to find her son's hand, she waited for the dawn.

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	2. Part 1 Chapter 1

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_**The Third Age - 2935**_

Gilraen was late, and saw dismayed that Elrond stood in the courtyard ahead, waiting beside her son. She hurried across the square. "Pardon me, lord, excuse my lateness, my final chore for the day, all I needed was some paper, would you believe the shelf broke, fell, buried my chronicle, _ahh_--" she quieted for lack of breath and a cramp in her side.

Smiling, Elrond shook his head. "You misunderstand." When he made a gesture with the hand Estel did not hold, Gilraen turned around.

After a moment two riders became visible in the distance. They emerged now from the trees' shade to cross the meadow. She had not heard that they were expected, but recognized the identical steeds and attire of Elladan and Elrohir.

"Do you see them now?" Elrond had picked up her son, whose face was drawn with concentration.

"Oh yes, but I cannot tell them apart. Not from here."

Gilraen smiled at his optimism. She doubted if he remembered them at all, leastwise which was which, being only two years old when he last saw them, and briefly. Even for her own part, the brethrens' appearance gave her pause once they rode up and dismounted: they seemed refreshed and cheerful, their gear unsullied. Not the condition in which she would expect them to return, after years in the Wild.

While they exchanged greetings with their father, Gilraen watched and listened carefully, failing in that short time to tell them apart herself. When one turned towards her, she said simply, "Welcome home." Receiving an embrace in return, she suspected that this was Elrohir.

He stepped back, smiling. "Greetings and well met! We brought letters, but give us a while to settle in, and I shall retrieve those addressed to you."

"For me? From where? Oh, you must have passed through the Angle!"

"Yes, and we return from a sojourn in Lothlórien, where Telmoth shall dwell for a while still." He cleared his throat and said haughtily, "'Since Gilraen keeps Elrond's house well in hand', as she said. Although she was not so assured that she did not compose a list of reminders for you!" He laughed, silencing suddenly, his eyes drawn downwards. "Well, hullo, and who might this young man be?"

The moment Elrond seemed solely targeted by these oncoming strangers, Estel had wiggled down to his own feet and disappeared behind his mother. Now he nodded frantically as she urged him to come out from her skirts.

Elladan turned with his father to join in coaxing the young one. "Hmm, he is handsome. I think me this is some Elf-prince, perhaps from a wooded realm."

Estel had since hidden himself away again, but could not leave these errors uncorrected. "No, I am Dúnadan, from the Sea," he asserted in a voice muffled by fabric and his mother's giggles.

"Ah, as I might have guessed. That is, if I could see you."

They waited, until a flushed face peeked out at them. Wide eyes peered at each twin before Estel dashed straight between them, crying, "Oh, father, it is worse than their portraits, they even sound alike!"

Elrond picked him up. "Maybe, but unlike their portraits, these two may answer to their names. Shall we try? This one is Elrohir."

Braver in his foster father's arms, Estel called on the Elf-man, and introduced himself. Elrohir made conversation at a distance, venturing closer once Estel was comfortable. Soon he held the boy's hand as they spoke together in Sindarin. By then standing farther away, Elladan said little more, and would not be persuaded to remain after deciding to leave -- to tend his and his brother's horse, he insisted. Gilraen wondered.

By suppertime, Estel's shyness had vanished, and he was acting much himself as the household sat down to the evening meal. From the following talk, Gilraen gathered that Elrond's sons had spent the majority of their time away in Lothlórien; which, as explained for her sake, was to many of Rivendell a home away from home.

Mention of this far-away place incited many questions from her son, as did most other topics. She feared that the Elves would grow impatient having news they yearned to hear interrupted by details already known to them; none complained, even as Elrohir kept them waiting a third time while he embellished another tale for Estel's amusement.

"Why go hunting in Mirkwood for giant spiders? Some live right here at home," said her son. "I killed one myself once, look here, it was this big, really!"

"_hrm..._" Elrohir covered his mouth --and laughter-- as if thoughtfully rubbing his chin as he considered Estel's fingers held a couple of inches apart. "A big spider, that. Ah, but Mirkwood is renowned also for its hunting songs, which even the trees will sing, thereby filling Elf-foes with dread. Elladan, let us recite one!"

Gilraen judged that Elladan was disinclined to partake, but Elrond replied first, "Spider-slaying ditties, I deem, should be saved for daylight."

Elrohir nodded with understanding. "Oh, of course. Another time, Estel." He quenched his thirst, and sat back with a sigh. "Back to tidings then-- only, where was I?"

"Beside the point even then," said Elladan, followed by some others' laughter. He turned to Ronduir, who had earlier asked a question never answered. "You wanted to know when we last trod the High Pass, before my brother mistook this table for the Hall of Fire."

Sitting nearer to Elrohir, Gilraen saw that he raised his eyes at his brother before turning towards her son, who sat yawning next to him. "Such plain talk is not for everyone," he quietly agreed.

"I cannot remember where the High Pass is. Should I know?"

Arranging a few items on the table, Elrohir said, "Let us say that this cup is Rivendell, and this twine the High Pass; we shall use this knife as the Misty Mountains and point it north."

Estel looked up from his nodding and sighed after a pause; apparently the conversation had become no more interesting to him. "I should have liked to hear a spider-slaying ditty, even at nighttime." He walked the distance of Elrohir's makeshift map with his fingers. "Where is Mirkwood?"

"That should be Elladan over yonder, for it is as gloomy."

Gilraen was grateful that her son missed the joke, and that Elrond provided a changed subject by inquiring towards the letters. His son winced and glanced apologetically at Gilraen.

"Ah! I meant to bring them. Instead, I have not even unpacked. And here the night is almost through already -- where has the day gone? Well, no matter, I shall go fetch them now."

Gilraen said, "Not for my sake, please, sit and enjoy what little of the evening remains. I should be off to put my son to bed." Estel straightened to protest, immediately betrayed by another yawn. "If you've yet to order your things, would I find you still awake within the hour? Let me come to your door then."

Eventually Elrohir agreed. "I admit that I am weary. Very well; one less chore for me tonight. Thank you."

Hearing this, Estel pulled on her skirt. "Oh, I'm weary, too, mother."

Picking him up, Gilraen gave her goodnight to the household, and on the walk to her room, considered how she might convince Elrohir to popularize hand-washing likewise.

"Didst thou hear? The boy calls him father now."

Gilraen stopped abruptly in the stairwell. The voice --one of Elrond's sons-- came from the hall above. She could not tell which direction he walked.

More distant, a calmer voice said, "Aye, I heard, and I think tis not my business, or thine."

"Maybe. Yet I bemoan vows made evanescent, or memory so selective that--"

The closing of a door interrupted the rest. Sitting down on the stairs, Gilraen considered what to do. Which twin said what, or made that any difference? Among other things, she wondered if of all those that Elrond has harbored, her son had been singled out, or if Elrond had treated others as his fosterlings likewise and the brethren were ever indifferent or resentful.

"Well, if my business is not theirs, then theirs is not mine," she grumbled and stood, resolved to proceed. At worst by coming so soon, they might suspect she had heard their talk; in which case, at least they might be more careful thereafter. Suppose Estel heard such talk! To give fair warning, she was not quiet crossing the hall, having herself no desire to hear more.

One of two doors ahead opened before she arrived. Elrohir stood at the threshold to welcome her inside. Despite his smile, she thought he seemed less at ease than he had during supper. "Please come in, but I'm afraid we only just arrived. Your son must fall asleep quickly, or else we tarried getting here. Make yourself comfortable while I sort through this stack -- it should not take long."

He went to a table, and seeing the 'stack' she would sooner name a paper hillock, Gilraen wished to have stayed a few moments longer on the stairs, or better, in her own room. She took one of two seats before a fireplace, the only thing in the fallow and too-tidy room that felt alive.

Elladan sat alone by the window --he bowed his head when their eyes met-- with the goblet of wine he had held throughout the evening still in hand. He drank little, but seemed to sip the draught to curb his tongue, maybe when what he would say others cared not to hear. He took a drink now, and Gilraen looked away, ordering her imagination to quit.

"Bah, what a nuisance I am to keep you." Elrohir was shuffling parchment with declining gentleness. "Gilraen, sorry, won't be but another minute. See, you should have let me deliver them to you after all. Would have served me right, forgetting to bring them to supper, and being so disorganized here."

"Already you have taken those letters across many miles. I would not have you carry them one step further." She added, "And there is no hurry." Yet in truth, she strove not to leave Estel sleeping by himself for long: he had been known in the past to venture out on his own, should he wake alone. More than once, he had made his way to Elrond's own quarters, never able no offer convincing reasons why he might have thought to find his mother there.

"Does your son not wait for you, lady?"

Gilraen started, looking towards Elladan at once. The inquiry correlated too exactly with her thoughts to be coincidence, or comfortable. Before she could speak, Elrohir inserted, "See, I know there were two at least, maybe more. Elladan, did we keep separate those we brought for Gilraen? Ha! Here they are!"

Despite his brother's attempt at distraction, Elladan had not so much as flinched, and thereby, neither could Gilraen. "I know what you think of me," he said. "You're wrong."

"Brother." The spell broke at last. Gilraen blinked, looking from one twin to the other. Elrohir's voice held a warning as he continued, "Say no more." Their matching gazes locked, and held, until Elladan returned his attention to the window and his wine.

Elrohir came to Gilraen, smiling unnaturally again as he gave her the letters. "More than I recalled: four in total. My apologies for the wait. Next time I shall bring them to your door and not be convinced otherwise, though you were kind to spare me the walk tonight. We rode from the Angle in only two days." Gilraen could not get to the door fast enough, and hardly noticed that Elrohir followed her into the hall. He said lower, "Please accept my apology on behalf of my brother. There is too much wine in him just now, but he meant no harm."

His goblet had only been refilled twice that Gilraen saw; hardly enough to affect one of Elladan's stature. She said, "Think nothing of it." And for her part, she could think of nothing else until sleep overcame her late into the night.

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_Notes:  
From ROTK Appendix A: '...and Elrond took the place of Aragorn's father and came to love him as a son of his own.' Canonically, Elrond may or may not have assumed the role of father for other Heirs of Isildur._

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	3. Part 1 Chapter 2

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The next day kept Gilraen busy from the moment she opened her eyes.

Estel was difficult to wash and nigh impossible to dress, restless with excitement. "Will they be at breakfast?" he had asked a number of times. He found it insufficient that Gilraen assured him the twins would be found eventually, though she knew not their own schedule.

"I get to meet their horses today, Elrohir promised! Nana, I have never sat a stallion before, may I sit one of theirs? --oh, not that itchy pair-- Will they be at breakfast?"

"My child, you shall find, eat, meet, or sit nothing without pants on. Now be still!" He did so, with visible effort, and without silencing.

Gilraen did not wonder at his enthusiasm. Often Elladan and Elrohir were spoken of in their father's house. Tales of their exploits across Middle-earth, combined with their fair portraits and the forbidden allure of their closed rooms, had long captivated her son. Even at that, he knew less than he might. 'Adventuring' was called their endless hunt and execution of orcs, at Gilraen's insistence. Regardless of how necessary or valuable the undertaking, she would not abide admiration for such achievements with Estel not yet old enough to respect how unglamorous the deed.

When they arrived at the dining hall, Estel was plainly disappointment that only Elrond and few others were present. Upon hearing that the twins were still abed, his mood lifted. "But the sun is up already!" he said laughing, and showed no interest in the food placed before him. "Really, nana, I should go and wake them, lest they sleep the day away."

"You should have breakfast and respect the privacy of others."

He quieted at this familiar reminder, and did not voice his usual defense, that he should not be faulted if some Elves were less receptive than others, since it was impossible to remember which ones do not appreciate what kinds of play.

After breakfast, Gilraen found herself reluctant to leave Estel in anyone else's care, for he seemed thoughtful, which was not unknown to precede mischief. She felt little comforted when Elrond said, "I thought we might forsake studies today, and dwell out of doors. Elrohir spoke last night of tack in poor repair; perhaps we may learn something of leathercraft, if we keep an audience with him."

Before he finished, Estel had already agreed thrice. Despite her reservations, Gilraen could not but consent. She left for her usual chores, taking longer since she made the time to happen across her son's location periodically -- every hour on the hour, in fact.

She discovered him well-behaved and in good company each time: first in the stables, watching beside Elrond as Elrohir shaped a horseshoe; next helping in the kitchens, unrecognizable but for his smile under a coating of flour; and later she heard many voices along with her son's, all male, echoing from the civic bathing chamber, but could not bring herself to look inside. By the last calculated chance visit --Estel slept in a chair while Elrond and Elrohir sat talking nearby-- she felt guilty for checking.

On that final walk returning to her tasks, Elladan came upon her path all too conveniently. He alone had marked her comings and goings throughout the day, while others paid no heed. She recognized the ambush as such, and would have allowed herself to be annoyed, had she not personally been stalking another likewise.

He gave a bow, and spoke as formally, "My brother was good enough to inform me that I owe you an apology, lady. Doubtless he spoke sooth, being in such ways the wiser of us two. For my part, I was not at my best last night, being fatigued and preoccupied; but troubling you was not my intent, and I am sorry."

Gilraen nodded as if interested, her mood such that she sought the fastest resolution without conflict. "Accepted then," she said, smiling as an afterthought, and saw that Elladan looked as unconvinced as her voice sounded unconvincing. Yet he said nothing more, not including the raised brow, and did not leave.

Suddenly uncomfortable, and at a loss for what else to do, she managed a farewell, only halting some steps away. This would be no easier after a day or a year, and no harder to confront now than to forever avoid. She turned back to face him.

"If you had not expected to return and find that another now thinks of your father as his own, know that I understand. Yet Master Elrond has forgotten you no more than Estel has replaced you, by will or accident. If you would but give him a chance, my son I mean, I think you could love him no less."

"You only think that, lady, while I know it is so. Mind you that your son is one of many, and just as his forefathers before him--" he looked away briefly. "It is easier, to love."

"What reason is that for--"

"Because it is shortsighted also," he snapped, sighing to continue, "Understand that soon, as I reckon it, Estel will die. Would you have me turn next to his heirs and begin breaking my heart anew? Well, I have seen that road, and it never ends." He brought himself up straighter, looking a little further down his nose at her thereby. "No, for me it must not be so. I am not as some others to spend my days enduring such torment, nor indeed contriving it. My energy is committed elsewhere."

"Was it always?" His look, however intense, did not surpass that of his father, and Gilraen withstood it. "You were friends with my husband, he spoke to me of you. He spent his childhood here too. And you mistook my son that night, calling him Arahad--" Elrond had never looked at her quite as Elladan did now, and she succumbed to the urge instilled in her to be silent.

He said plainly, "Less apparent though it may be given the short span of mortal years, nonetheless believe me when I say that even in Rivendell, some things do change."

"Yes. Yes of course. Then I-- I would ask nothing of you. Just, perhaps, that you not begrudge my son the love given him. It is not undeserved."

Shifting, he said, "I do not. Pray you not begrudge me, lady, that I cannot forget who will stand over his grave, and yours, beside Elrond grieving yet again for the bitterness of mortality."

To that, she had no reply. The notion of Elrond, or any of these most noble of people, burying Estel seemed wrong beyond reason, even more so than any looking to the next Heir of Isildur. She could not put it to words.

"Gilraen." He had spoken while her thoughts consumed her. She blinked and found his expression softened. "I said that certain things need not be asked for, that there be no confusion in the future. True it is no secret that Elrond and I do not agree in all ways at all times; yet I am a loyal son, and ever at the service of my lord father in his endeavors, many of which we share in common. Do you understand?"

Excluding the aspect entirely unknown to her, that Elrond and either of his sons were ever at odds for any reason, she thought to. "I believe so."

"That is well then." He bowed again with a smile that revealed nothing, gave a courteous farewell, and turned to go.

"Ah--" he stopped. "My son, besides that he-- I mean, do you disagree about Estel? If I may ask."

Elladan hesitated, but sounded sincere to say, "No." He glanced over his shoulder. "You do know what it means, Estel? If I may ask."

"Hope? I should-- hope so."

To her surprise, he smiled honest and nigh full, an Elrohir-smile in the making. "Well, I might have chosen something more... subtle, to relate the same sentiment. Beren, mayhap. But no, we do not disagree about Estel."

"I suggested Elessar," she ventured given the lighter mood, yet not so comfortable that she felt like sharing that the name had indeed been foreseen for him at his birth.

"Elfstone." Elladan faced forward. "What did Elrond say?"

She smiled remembering his smile. "Not yet."

"...Good day, Gilraen."

Well, there had been worse days.

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_Notes:  
From ROTK Appendix A: 'But Aragorn was called Estel, that is "Hope"...'.  
From LOTR, Farewell to Lorien: 'In this hour take the name that was foretold for you, Elessar, the Elfstone of the house of Elendil!' And from ROTK, The Houses of Healing: 'And they named him Elfstone, because of the green stone that he wore, and so the name which it was foretold at his birth that he should bear was chosen for him by his own people.' So who foretold the name at his birth? Canonically, it was Ivorwen mother of Gilraen. From HOME, The Peoples of Middle-earth: '...and his father gave him the name Aragorn, a name used in the House of the Chieftains. But Ivorwen at his naming stood by, and said "Kingly Valour" (for so that name is interpreted): "that he shall have, but I see on his breast a green stone, and from that his true name shall come and his chief renown: for he shall be a healer and a renewer."'_

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	4. Part 2 Chapter 1

**2936**

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Though it had been otherwise during supper, Elrond seemed preoccupied as they left the dining hall, headed out of doors. Used to his moods, Gilraen was not surprised, if curious. Once Estel had scurried ahead to walk aside Elrohir, she sidled closer to Elrond. "An evening fit for a poet," she said, pointing to a pair of birds perched in a flowering tree -- Elrond had once commented in jest how throughout the Ages, nigh every minstrel visiting Rivendell had dedicated a song to that very scene.

Currently he seemed not to have heard. Used to this in turn, Gilraen simply held out her hand before him, which by habit he took to his side in the manner of formal escort. Thus having his attention, she spoke again. "I fear Estel has developed a taste for the spontaneous, and a tendency to assume all others are of like mind. I know he was obstinate and excited about going for this ride, but I could still dissuade him, if you have obligations elsewhere."

He drew a quick breath that she feigned not to notice, but could not ignore that he stopped walking. "Forgive me, I did not mean to pry." Seeing his unblinking stare focused over her head, she turned. Elrohir and Estel entered the stable just then, but nothing seemed amiss. Before she could question, Elrond resumed walking, swifter than before. She followed, soon hearing her son's alarmed voice come from the building ahead.

As she broke into a run, he emerged alone to stand beside the entryway. "Estel, what? What is it?" Weeping, he threw himself into her arms, reaching next for Elrond. Through his sobs, Gilraen could distinguish few words, 'dead' among them, but he pointed tellingly whence he had come.

Elrond said, "One of the horses has perished." From the tone of his voice, Gilraen thought he must have had forewarning. With a sigh, he joined in the embrace of mother and child, remaining so until Estel had calmed. "I go now to do what I can."

Gilraen nodded, seeing that Elrohir lingered nearby. He made a small gesture, either summoning his father or relaying some message lost upon her. "I will see to this." She kissed her son's head, talking soothingly to him as she started back for the house. Mere steps later, Estel popped his head up from her shoulder, eyes widening at the changed surroundings.

"Nana, no! Where did ada go?"

She tried to explain that he had gone to do something unfun, trying next to interest Estel in playing a game inside. The instant his eyes filled with tears, she relented. "Let us stay by your ada then."

They fell in line not far behind Elrond. Elrohir stood now at the entry, almost guard-like in his stance, though with his back to the frame, he did not block her way. He did not move as she passed him by -- neither to blink nor to breathe, that Gilraen could tell. She hoped to leave the eeriness of his presence behind, but once within, felt engulfed by more of the same.

Just ahead, Asfaloth laid unmoving, his saddle gear and headstall strewn haphazardly about. Elrond approached, and cradling the beast's head, a figure sat, gold-haired and white-garbed. Gilraen had never seen Glorfindel so wilted, so dim. Unwittingly, she paused.

"It is death."

Startled by his unexpected words, she eyed Elrohir over the shoulder Estel did not clutch. The threshold fell under shadow, concealing his face, even his bright eyes, giving his voice the illusion of disembodiment.

"Why it feels as though you have stepped beyond Rivendell: you walk in the footprints of death."

"I am mortal." Shifting Estel to her other hip, she shook out her cramping arm, and walked on. "We live in the footprints of death."

She came to stand near Elrond, who had crouched opposite Glorfindel, his head bowed as his hands rested upon Asfaloth. Being so close gave her certainty that the beast drew no breath, and she wondered at Elrond's purpose, until hearing a gentle whisper in Quenya, both language and prayer beyond her understanding. After a moment, he stood.

"I am sorry, my friend."

Glorfindel might have attempted a smile, nodding instead. "So am I. Sorry and selfish." The motion unsteady, maybe for lack of reason, he stroked the white coat. "We would ride so little anymore, giving his body ample time to rest. Yesterday, I left him hopeful of another year, one last year. Today, he asked for one last ride, knowing better than I how short his time left. Yet we got only this far, before--"

Shoulders tensing, his chin fell abruptly to his chest. "He did not resist, so noble, just lied down and... here we are." When Elrond knelt behind, straight and strong as ever, Gilraen likened him to the shadow Glorfindel would cast on any other day. The thought made her tired, long for tomorrow.

Glorfindel's gaze took to roaming the form before him, then his surroundings, as though seeking something misplaced, or just missed; he spoke as if lost himself. "How many times, this, Elrond? How many times that it never becomes easier?"

Estel wept anew, clinging to Gilraen even as the Elf twisted into Elrond's embrace. As it became evident that her son would not be consoled promptly, she took continuous steps backwards, colliding suddenly with something broad and hard. Gloved hands steadied her from behind.

"My apologies, lady, I was distracted."

"No, excuse me, I was not looking." Gilraen turned, peering beyond the Elf-man to see if another remained at the entrance. The shadow revealed nothing. She studied the face before her. "Elrohir?"

"He has left." Elladan raised a hand, silencing her reply. "Even if you alone mistook us, I would not wait for an apology." After a glance to where his father comforted Glorfindel, Elladan looked full at Estel. "What about this jaunt you pled for? I thought you would have been miles gone by now."

Estel sniffed. "I do not care to ride anymore. Asfaloth has died, and everyone cries for him. Will you hold me?"

Elladan flinched at the unusual request. "Must we stay here, if I do?" The boy shook his head, already reaching over. Taking him, Elladan said to Gilraen, "Would you accompany us into the fresh air?"

Gladly, she did so, feeling immediately refreshed, even able to take amusement in that, for once, she had been happier to see Elladan than his brother. When a hint of guilt followed that thought, she glanced sidelong. Her son cried no longer, comforted in the Elf-man's arms; seeing him held by another, she did not wonder that her own arm still ached. _Soon only a Half-elf will have the strength to lift him._

"Thank you," she said. Elladan nodded.

They walked through the pasture, until the sun was near the horizon, and the stable a distant shape. Elladan lead them to a place amid sparse, thin trees, where the remains of what might have been broken walls provided Estel with a few moments of intense investigation. He soon returned to where his mother sat, saying, "I am still sad."

Hearing this, Elladan came to sit beside Gilraen. "Here, child, take a place between us." With help to scale the bench's height, he did so. Elladan said then, "Things die, Estel; plants, people, even ideas -- you know this. Asfaloth is a good and loyal horse, but he is mortal also. Had he stayed any longer with us, he would have struggled to live, and suffered in death."

"I would not want that," the boy affirmed. Then softly, "But father suffers now, and Glorfindel. They even cried, you saw."

Elladan turned his face to the setting sun, the west. "They are sad, more so than need be, which I will explain. Think of Elven grief like a lakebed, when over the ages, sorrow by sorrow, the bed is filled, becoming a pool. Undisturbed, it remains calm, but imagine now a stone dropped into the water; as it sinks, ripples spread in widening circles out to the very the rim. Incidents like this one are as stones, that when fallen upon a calm pool, upset each sorrow laid there to rest before."

Estel nestled closer to Elladan's side. Duly amused, Gilraen noticed the Elf-man wrap his arm around the boy. _Does he make a conscious effort to be affectionate now, or has he forgotten conscious restrictions?_ "Glorfindel does not weep for this severance alone, but for remembrance of every time he has bid a friend farewell. Not all partings are peaceful, as this one. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Only..." Estel looked up, squinting as his head tilted thoughtfully. "Elladan, you are elvish. Why do you not ripple?"

A smile surfaced, equally sorrowful and sagacious, as Elladan regarded the boy, causing Gilraen to blink unconsciously, so alike he looked to his father in that moment. "Some ripple on the inside." They embraced briefly, when Elladan said, "Now, enough tears! You are no Elf to have so many to spare. Besides, Asfaloth will return."

Gilraen could not be certain, by Estel's exclamation, if she had also gasped. "He will? He really will?" After Elladan's nod, Estel squealed for joy. "Does Glorfindel know? Does father, and Elrohir? I must tell them!"

His expression sobered at that, Elladan stood up, lowering the boy to the ground. "They do know. You may remind them, but have a care. Remember what I said; their grief may yet dwell close to the surface, until this time of mourning passes."

"Oh, yes, I will be gentle." He turned to Gilraen with eyes alight, speaking before she could summon the nerve to quench his exhilaration, "Mother, is it not wonderful? He'll return!" Unanswered, he sprinted off, racing through the field.

Gilraen turned on the Elf-man, fighting an urge to slap him. "In this as in so many things, you could learn much from your brother."

"What?"

"What!" She raised a hand on impulse, lowering it in a fist as quickly. "He will not forget, Elladan, he is no fool. Months and years will pass with you coming and going but he will never forget what you said this day." His innocuous look only exasperated her further. She continued pleadingly, as one might reason with an unreasonable child. "How can you pretend not to understand? How can you justify telling an everlasting untruth to brighten one dark hour? You know better, you must!"

After an initial frown, he bristled, even tossed his head. "Lady, I think of neither you nor your son as fools, and I tell no lies. But with or without your understanding, this... _reunion_ will occur."

"Ah, 'reunion', is it?" Her annoyance grew twofold, that no one here spoke to her in Sindarin despite her fluency, save to replace a word or two should her reaction to the Westron equivalent displease them. "In spirit, you mean? And where, when; beyond this world? You might have told Estel as much."

After a moment, he shook his head. "This is difficult for you to consider."

To collect whatever patience remained to her, she closed her eyes, breathing deeply. "I have not the will to pursue this further presently. But one day, Estel must hear the truth, an unpleasant chore which will fall to me. I do not thank you for that." She met his eyes again, forcing herself to remember his compassion towards her son, and that in his own way, he meant well. "For being a comfort to him, I am grateful. Good day."

* * *


	5. Part 2 Chapter 2

**2938**

* * *

She stopped short, motionless after her mouth fell open. _This cannot be._ In the courtyard, a crowd formed to greet the recent arrival, every face smiling except for one -- to Gilraen's knowledge, even elvish horses could not smile.

After a bout of basking in admiration, the beast stepped forward to pause at the foot of the stairs. Not fully grown, Gilraen estimated his age at two years, though he moved with the grace of a steed tried and proven. Raising and turning his head, he eyed her; such was the intelligence in his gaze that when he blinked, Gilraen could not differentiate it from a wink. _It cannot be._ Yet no other horse had ever regarded her in such a way.

"Asfaloth!" cried an Elf from behind. A blur of golden hair flew by, with laughter like a ringing of bells. "Asfaloth!"

Incredulous, Gilraen watched as Glorfindel descended the stairs to embrace the young stallion. Looking up towards her, tears shone on his bright face, tears of joy. For several moments, he fussed over the animal, inspecting every joint and limb, exclaiming his satisfaction all the while. Finally, he leapt away. "Come, Asfaloth, come! You journeyed long to reach home, and long shall be your reception." He walked backwards then, speaking of carrots, combing, and all manner of equine indulgences.

The horse followed, nudging playfully at the Elf's center, but paused once Glorfindel had turned to continue walking forward. Unobserved, save to Gilraen, the steed glanced back at her, nickered with a toss of his head, and sprinted off to rejoin his master.

Decided then, she headed down the stairs. A few Elves remained below, chatting amongst themselves of Glorfindel's happiness, Asfaloth's return, and something about Gondolin that Gilraen did not understand. She heard nothing indicative of surprise in particular. _But then, no one had ever seemed surprised._ She recalled times when Estel had mentioned Asfaloth, his impeding return, and how uncomfortable she would become, more so that Elf after Elf humoured her son unhesitatingly. _Even Elrond._ Or so she had thought.

On the winding paths through gardens and structures, she made her way to the training grounds, then the sparring ring. There, a few pairs were amid mock combat, while several Elves lingered near the surrounding benches, waiting for or recovering from their own engagements. She sought out a familiar face, and approached Telmoth.

_Yet another whom I had begrudged._ Estel once asked the Elf why Glorfindel mourned if he would meet Asfaloth again. 'Because it is his way,' she had said; 'but for that reason I mourn not, and I think neither should you.'

Feeling somewhat inferior, as she had not since first coming to live in Elrond's house, Gilraen looked upon Telmoth and waited for recognition. _I wager she has lost no sleep these past years, and owes no apologies this day. Which of us is the wiser, I should not wonder._

"Aye, like timid maidens," the Elf was saying to another as they surveyed the proceedings. Telmoth acknowledged Gilraen with a nod, and seemed to dismiss her similarly. "It is noon. Elrond should be in his library."

"After he and my son return from foraging for herbs, perhaps." The Elf gave a short huff, which Gilraen endeavored not to make her repeat. "But might you know where Elrond's firstborn enjoys himself today, if not in your own fine company?"

Telmoth's eyelids lowered, and she made a strange movement: Gilraen likened it to how Estel might hug himself for a job well done. "Indeed, he was here earlier, when the elders had the field, though he left before I could wound aught other than his pride. I would look to find him at the nearest bathing spring."

"Ah, well, I would not." Gilraen lifted her chin at the Elf's raised brow. "Would not disturb him, I mean. Mayhap you know of his plans for this evening?"

"I have not seen him in the evening for all this season."

Neither had Gilraen, and remembering how unpredictably Elrond's sons were known to depart, she resolved to seek him out sooner than later. She left Telmoth and her companion debating the difference twixt subterfuge and technique.

Elladan was not present at the first or second site visited, and according to those Elves singing with the water and each other, he had not been observed coming or going. By the third, Gilraen approached and paused only near enough to hear splashing; when no songs followed, she continued along the path.

Ahead, the trail wound sharply around an outcropping of rock. Gilraen did not frequent the springs, but remembered that this pool lay just opposite the bend. Bypassing the boulder, she stood with her back to the turned path, so that the bather would be aware of her presence, but invisible to her.

Soundless moments later, she heard, "What are you doing?"

"I had hoped to speak with you," she answered, recognizing Elladan's voice.

"Then come over, lest we go hoarse from shouting."

As the noises of splashing resumed, she reconsidered her plan of immediate discussion, but obligingly took a few steps closer, backwards, before speaking again. "Forgive my intrusion, I feared to miss you in the evening. Might we set time aside to speak later, at least before you next take leave?"

"Why not now?"

She sighed silently. Despite years residing in an elvish household, publicly bathing in appropriate nudity remained a strange custom to her. Likewise, some Elves had remarked upon her reservations as seeming no less peculiar to them, with a few taking it upon themselves to tease. Presently, she suspected that Elladan was just being contrary. _Would he still, if he understood my purpose?_ She ventured not.

"Asfaloth has returned."

The water went quiet again. Bracing her modesty, Gilraen turned, shading her eyes from the sun with one hand. The Elf-man's gaze drifted from the surrounding greenery to the sky, stopping squarely upon her. "Surely you did not come here thinking to make amends."

"Well, yes." She found herself shifting, as his eyes did not; it even seemed that the temperature rose. Suddenly he shrugged, and emerged with barely enough warning for Gilraen to avert her already heated face. His voice came from farther away.

"This surprises me. I had not realized that we were at odds."

Though tempted, she did not admit her difficulty to be certain either, judging by his moods alone. "Two years ago, you consoled my son when Asfaloth... died. Do you recall?" When no reply came, she turned again. Elladan laid spread out to dry on a smooth rock in the sun -- seeing as much, she promptly looked back away, assuming that he had nodded in answer rather than fallen asleep. "I was short with you, believing you had misled him. But you were right, in all that you said. I did not understand, still I do not."

Another silence lengthened, until Gilraen glanced over to see Elladan raised on his elbows, unsmiling as he regarded her. Guessing his unspoken complaint, she neared. He reclined then, saying, "In my lifetime, I have ridden and buried countless horses, though never one quite like Asfaloth. As told by Glorfindel, he is an elvish horse of ancient lineage, born first in the Undying Lands and come to Arda before the sun. Throughout the Ages, he has died both on the field of battle, and as you saw, at the end of his natural life -- in any case, he ever returns at his leisure. More than that, I cannot explain."

"I wish you could." She thought for a moment, musing aloud, "It must have something to do with his living here, in an elvish realm. Elsewhere, horses are not reborn--"

"How can you be certain?" Elladan interjected. "Has no foal of your acquaintance been faster to learn, more eager to serve, less liable to err?"

"Of course, but--"

"Have you never asked them of themselves?"

Gilraen would have dismissed the question as a jest, had it come from a man. "I do not have that ability, to converse with animals."

"Like I said, Glorfindel and Asfaloth were companions since before time passed as we count it now, so one should expect their bond, but it is a rare beast who retains naught that--" she heard a scattering of pebbles. He had sat up facing her, both feet on the ground. "Say you what?"

"I cannot talk to animals."

"My father said you were foresighted, in the manner of Elf-kind. I had assumed--" Sounding initially puzzled, he ended plainly, "Well, no matter."

From the edge of her vision, she saw Elladan standing up; after catching a welcome glimpse of cloth, she chanced to look fully. He pulled a tunic over his head -- first shaking the tunic, then his head, both a bit bemusedly. She wondered at his thoughts, if her limitations were bothersome or peculiarities, if their differences made him feel isolated or superior. But she discarded such as merely a reversed reflection of her own feelings towards Elf-kind. "So, Asfaloth, he is reborn, and makes his way home as he pleases."

"So he tells us." He went rigid before sighing with a groan she barely heard. She could only guess that he had meant not to speak again of what beasts have to say for themselves. "Does Estel know?"

"Maybe, by now." When it appeared that he made ready to leave, she extended her hand, as she had seen others do under these circumstances. "I had thought of myself as so clever to evade the subject, should it ever arise. Yet the last time Estel spoke of Asfaloth, asking when I supposed he would return, I answered that I supposed he would not. I mean to apologize to my son, for my pessimism. But first, I wish to apologize to you, for my mistake."

He seemed to deliberate; also to soften. "Just be mindful not to let this incident lead you to gullibility. Some of these Elves are not above pranks, and those so inclined prey upon trustfulness." She wondered why a smile came to him as he grasped her by the arm. "All is well." His smile broadened, until he laughed.

"What?"

"This," he shook her arm, "transpired traditionally amongst brothers in arms, though these days any ner will take the liberty. However, the nissi always have and still embrace."

"I see. What of me then?"

"Evidently something in between, which is why I laughed -- see, you even offered the wrong hand."

"Hm, what a fine apology to waste. And I was so sure." Her lips pursed, she frowned upon their clasped arms. "But it is a gesture of contrition, yes?"

"It is. And an apology once accepted in any form cannot be withdrawn -- though you may have your hand back."

Side by side, they began to follow the trail. "So many customs to heed; and this one presents a predicament for your line. Which hand do the Half-elven offer?"

"Ah, we exempt ourselves by winking instead; the nuances of which make apologizing to your kind somewhat of a trial -- twixt the men, at least."

She laughed, more at his oddness than the jest. Then realizing that Elladan had done the same after her blunder, she laughed anew.

* * *


	6. Part 3 Chapter 1

**_

* * *

_**

**_2941 of the Third Age_**

"Today is a special day, Estel," said Elladan. His look was knowing as he stood with hands on hips, gazing keenly at the boy. Gilraen took particular notice of this wily mood, rare as it was. Her son, however, looked up at the Elf-man unimpressed.

"I know that," he said.

Elladan replied sagely, "Ah, but it is especially special. Can you guess how so?"

"Well… it is my birthday." Seeing that there must be more to it, Estel thought for a moment, touching his finger to his temple even though his mother had assured him it does not truly help one think. "Elladan, what then? The day will be over before I figure it out."

"Nay, for you are clever with riddles. But I will not leave you wondering." He turned up his hands, fingers spread. "You are now ten years of age, and not until ninety years have passed shall you earn a third digit."

Gilraen watched as her son stood unflinching, then closed his eyes, frowned, and sighed with a shake of his head. "That is a lame jest." Her quick reprimand was lost amid Elladan's mock-outburst.

"What! That is as my own grandfather told me, and similarly when I reached my first century--"

"And it was lame even then," said Elrohir, strolling into the room. Elladan dismissed them both with a wave before turning to a window, though from her vantage Gilraen saw that he grinned.

Elrohir went on, "Father is coming now to see us off, and our horses wait prepared in the square. Estel, I've brought your gloves, but here, let me show you a nice trick. We shall set them on the furnace a moment ere we go, and your fingers will thank you for the warmth -- never forget them there, though, or no one will thank you for the smell!"

Gilraen watched their continuing exchange with gladness and sorrow, knowing her son would be as safe as he would be content. Estel had pleaded for such an excursion over many years, ever bade to settle for day-long rides. Now at last she trusted his skills at riding and woodcraft enough to permit a longer trip, and one on which she would not go along. His birthday gift from her, therefore, was twelve days in the wilderness, with Elladan and Elrohir as guides.

"Well, just look at you." Elrohir had knelt before Estel, looking the boy over as he bent backwards. "Every year your head is at a different place! I should ask father if you are tall for your age."

"And father would know," Estel supplied. "He measured me just a while ago -- and all over! I thought it was for clothing, and shoes, and a hat too, but I received none of those things since."

Gilraen remembered that day. She had been hard-pressed to keep from laughing at Elrond's ingenuity in concealing his true purpose from Estel, who might have guessed what he was being fitted for, had his foster father not documented the length of each foot as well as the reach of both arms, and the circumference of his head along with the width of his shoulders.

Her son looked now at Elrohir as he had looked at her after Elrond departed with his --partially irrelevant-- dimensions. "Was that not strange of him?"

"Hmm, yes, I cannot make any sense of that," Elrohir lied, poorly. "Brother, have you any insight to share?"

Elladan would not spoil the game, but played differently. "I think you are all mad."

"Well there, you see? Maybe that explains it."

Of a sudden, Estel was all his age, bouncing from one foot to the other. "Oh, oh, oh, a plot! Tell me now, Elrohir, I must know, what is the long secret?"

"It is not for me to tell!" he laughed. "But I think you will know soon enough, perhaps even before we leave."

Gilraen unclenched her hands as the chair's armrests began to creak. There was nothing, it seemed, anyone had to say that did not incite an urge to forbid this plan, and keep her child at home. She entertained thoughts of meddling, knowing she would dismiss them in the end. _If I begged Glorfindel to follow them, he would. Or Telmoth, though she would balk at such short notice. But surely Ronduir will watch over them, if his post is nearby._

When Elrond came, they left together for the courtyard. Gilraen noticed her son inching towards her, the brave face he donned unwavering. Soon his cold hand slipped into hers. "Will you be lonely?" he blurted once the horses came into view, packed as they were for the journey ahead.

"Of course!" She bent to kiss his head. "So do not stay gone overlong."

"Nana…" he stopped short as Elladan came up, presenting his warmed gloves. "Oh, I forgot after all. Elrohir--"

"Forgets his own more often than not. How else would he know they smell foul when cooked? Now go see Master Elrond; he asks for you." He patted the boy's back, and bowed towards Gilraen. "We go with his blessings, lady," he said, and she understood the unsaid --an assurance of safe return-- but found that she still had tears to hold back.

A joyous cry shattered the peace, followed by elvish laughter from unseen sources. Gilraen looked towards her son, just completing a happy dance before daring to handle the gift Elrond had revealed. It was a bow, far more opulent than what had been described to her while it was still an idea presented with seeming innocence. She resolved to have more care the next time a Half-elf seemed innocent.

Now Elrond knelt, and Estel received the bow gingerly before resting back against his foster father's support. With silent wonder, he examined its shape and the runes writ upon it. In a moment he shook himself as if to wake from a dream, then smiled that he did not. "I will cherish it," he breathed.

"No." Elrond turned the boy around, closing the bow in his hands. "You will _use_ it. Thus, it should become scuffed and worn, and it may well break or be replaced. But--"

"The gift, father," Estel interrupted, and walked into his foster father's embrace. "I will cherish the gift, not the thing -- I know the difference. Thank you."

Gilraen lost her fight for composure; the scene before her and the imminent parting brought forth too many memories that she wished not to revisit. For Estel's sake, she turned away to conceal a sob by embracing whoever stood closest, as if in farewell. Then for her own sake, she turned again and embraced whoever stood next closest, to conceal her mirth after that queer moment in Elladan's awkward embrace. She felt Elrohir shaking with silent laughter of his own, which helped her efforts to sober none at all.

With such a weapon at hand, Estel was all confidence. Accepting no help to get saddled --nor suffering to be parted from the bow-- he reined his horse around while the twins mounted their steeds. "I shall return an accomplished bowman, a master hunter!" he said to Elrond, who generously conceded that by minding Elladan and Elrohir's tuition, it was possible. Gilraen wondered how long it would take before he noticed his lack of arrows, and how long after that until the brethren ceased teasing and revealed the quiver which was to be their gift to him.

After one last cry of farewell, she watched her only son ride out of sight beside twain warriors, carefully repressing the thought, _What have I done?_ Stealing a glance at Elrond revealed him to be dry-eyed, without evident concern or intentions to move. Uncounted moments later, she returned to the house alone.

By midday, their paths had crossed too closely, and too many times, to ignore. Laughing in recognition that they had both been wandering without much purpose, they approached each other, and met in the foyer.

"Well, I forgot your advice, lord, though I now see the wisdom in it," said Gilraen. She knew Elrond had been partially teasing when he suggested that she do nothing for days before Estel departed, to ensure a busy schedule until his return, leaving less time to worry. Yet in her nervousness pending his leavetaking, she had been restlessly productive, leaving little to do now but wait.

Elrond replied, "Would that I had taken my own advice." He unfolded his hands, seeming to shrug at seeing their emptiness. "It is easier looking after another, I think, than seeing to oneself."

She agreed. "We ought to have put conditions upon each other, then, that we remain idle until his departure... or else sat with our hands tied together. For my part, though, I am not solely to blame! I had thought to help Estel with his packing, but he was so determined to do things himself, he would not even let me prepare traveling meals."

He nodded, saying, "Ah, and I had made a list, on it among other chores to reorder my library. But Estel happened across those plans, and thinking to spare me the trouble, toiled in my place secretly: 'since I helped you mess it', as he said."

Gilraen forced her smile away. "When he returns, we must sit him down and explain all he has put us through."

"Truly."

A noise outside attracted her attention for a moment, and the angled shadows reminded her of the hour. On a normal day, Elrond would be unseen from now until suppertime. She began to excuse herself, if he had business elsewhere, but he said, "I had thought to sit a while ere the next meal is served. There is cider warming over the fire in my study, and I would welcome your company, if you would be interrupted."

"From walking in circles? Yes, I would be interrupted, and grateful for it." He held out a hand that she accepted --not without chuckling at his habitual formality-- and they began the walk to his quarters. Twice in getting there, he opened a door before her, and she cited those favors as reason why she ought to serve their drinks. That failing, she said, "Never mind your elvish scruples. It's my turn."

"If you insist." Sitting down, he said, "Speaking of favors, your son was diligent in this, was he not?" He gestured about the room, the bookshelves on each wall tidy and clean.

Gilraen sat. "Yes, and I am amazed if he managed such a feat without being caught at work. In a single evening, it happened?"

"He had some help, I gather. Elrohir whispered in my ear, that if I needed to busy my hands, to consider his own room instead."

"Well, having seen his room, I cannot blame him for his guile."

Elrond laughed. "Is it in such a desperate state? I suppose since--" he faltered, and drank before continuing. "They leave in haste, sometimes."

"Yes, I..." she sought for something more insightful, ending instead with, "I noticed." For a while, they sat in silence. "Is this the usual way of it, then, that your sons are away for the most part of each year?"

"It is, though as the habits of the enemy change, accordingly my sons must adjust their schedule."

"Of course. The Rangers do likewise. I suppose that is not what I meant to ask." She took a drink, wanting to use that time to consider her next question; yet all she could ponder was that Elrond looked as though he waited with the answer already. "In their absence, the absence of our children, what is a parent to do?"

"I know not, for mine have never all been gone at once."

For several minutes they just stared. Finally, Gilraen laughed, looking away in abashment to feel her cheeks flush. "You consider me a child, lord?"

"I would be remiss not to regard the youngest resident of this household as my charge." She looked back to see that his expression had fallen sober, and his gaze reached to some faraway point. He continued quietly, "In truth, I do not know."

Again, they sat silently. Gilraen was surprised when the supper bells rang soon after, and that she could not recall what thoughts she had been so lost in. _Lost in thoughtlessness, then. My cousins would tease me if they knew I sat around like an Elf now, thinking without words._

She looked at Elrond, turning an empty cup in his hands. If he had heard the bells, she could not tell, but he seemed to notice her gaze. "Gilraen, it may still be early, but when Estel returns, I should like to have him begin additional combat training." Meeting his eyes, she thought he anticipated her disapproval. "With weapons."

The extent of his training thus far seemed little more than rigorous play, or basic study, and all things to the delight of young boys: horseback riding, woodcraft, even wrestling. As such, it had always been easy, and preferable, for Gilraen to ignore the truth of it: that he _was_ indeed training, and not for any game.

"I see. Well, yes, of course. He is at the appropriate age, after all. One of his stature and maturity might have been started with the blade already, in the Angle, and especially being... who he is."

Elrond sat forward, taking her hand in his. "Such is one benefit," he said, "of living here, that your son dwells not in danger or fear, and need not hasten towards manhood."

"I know. Yet he has grown too fast as it is, if you ask me."

"They always do, I assure you." He stood, smiling again. "Now come! The sweeter his homecoming will be, after you have sat to sup without him, and found the company lacking."

She did not voice her thought: that the company was never lacking at Elrond's table.

* * *


	7. Part 3 Chapter 2

* * *

The knock on her door came too early in the morning to be good news. Jolting out of bed, Gilraen immediately began to dress. "Come in!" she called, even as she raced to open the door herself.

On the other side stood an Elf looking mildly affronted with one hand drawn away as if from a hot stove. She tossed her head back. "I was coming."

"Oh Telmoth, welcome home, ah, pray forgive my curtness, at this hour I feared something was amiss. But I suppose you are not so terrible!" Gilraen was able to laugh, though Telmoth did not. "Have you just ridden in?"

"Yes." The Elf put a hand on Gilraen's arm, then stepped aside, gesturing that she was not alone. "And you are right that something is amiss."

The worst of her foreboding returned, Gilraen darted into the hallway. Elrond stood there, as she knew he would -- Telmoth held her tongue for no one else. She came close enough to read from his eyes in the dimness. "Tell me plainly, I beg you. Has something befallen my son?"

He raised his hands. "No."

With that word the tension broke, and she slumped forward, dizzy for relief. "I feared..." _the worst_, she could not finish. When arms came around her, it seemed easier to breathe amid the warmth. Telmoth moved then to stand within view. "Tell me your tidings."

The Elf glanced up before replying, "Alas, the Dúnedain commander, Valcirion, has passed away. He is survived by his wife and children, and will be succeeded by Gilbarad. Your kinsmen mourn, but send to you their good wishes."

Gilraen allowed herself a deep breath before stepping back to meet Elrond's eyes. "Was it... how did he fall?"

"He did not, but rather had taken to sickbed, so Telmoth was told."

After a moment, she replied, "That is a strange end for a man of high lineage, despite his age. I know he had been stricken ill at times these last years, but, to die..."

Telmoth spoke in her stead. "Come now, Gilraen, you have begun to shiver; let us get you something warmer to wear than that shift. If you must be treated for exposure, I will never be allowed to forget this night." To Elrond, she said, "We release you to your obligations, Master."

Gilraen was led back inside her room, robed, and seated before she realized it. Telmoth continued then, "Elrond did not wish to wake you, but I insisted on your behalf. Was I right in adjudging that this is as you would have it?"

Unbidden memories came, of the night when she learned of Arathorn's death. The sound of hoofbeats had awoken her, but she did not mark the hour; just knew that two horses approached when there should only be one. She came with dread to see beyond the bedroom window Arathorn's riderless horse, and grim-faced Gilbarad dismounting. A moment later, they stood one on each side of the threshold.

'You are a widow.'

'Your wife is not. Go to her.' They made no eye contact before she closed the door. Returning to the bedroom, she had watched Aragorn sleep, striving in the poor light to memorize every inch of his face, maybe to make the memory of Arathorn's less vivid thereby.

The bed she sat on presently was empty --Estel had long since slept in his own room-- and it occurred to her, not for the first time, that without him she would be alone.

Telmoth spoke again, "You were close to this man, Valcirion? His widow spoke fondly of you."

"I knew them better in my youth, ere I married and left my family's home. I befriended their last child, a daughter close to my age, and their oldest son had children that I would look after."

"I am sorry for your loss, and that of his family."

"Gilbarad has a son now, seven years old already. If he is to take Valcirion's place--" Gilraen blinked, sitting straighter. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I never asked of your family, Telmoth. You have stayed in Lothlórien for all these years; were you visiting relatives?"

"My relatives left these shores long ago, one way or another." The Elf lit the lamp sitting at the bedside, and made to leave. "It is good to be home," she said by the door; but referring to Rivendell or the West, Gilraen did not know.

-clang!-

"I have not seen him," replied Glorfindel, all sincerity.

Which did not exactly answer Gilraen's question; but she rephrased in any case. "Can you tell me where he is?"

The Elf was again focused upon his task, plunging the horseshoe he shaped into a basin of water, and spoke haltingly over the hissing steam, "I fear not." Then he ducked away to where Asfaloth waited nearby, checking the shoe's fit.

Gilraen considered her next words carefully, saying when he returned, "Can you tell me how I might find him?"

He paused, opened and closed his mouth, then smiled. "Elrond was unspecific in this, so I shall say, 'I do not know'."

_And we shall be here all day_, Gilraen did not reply, trying to rub away the ache from her head.

Glorfindel must have noticed, for with a nod to the forge he said, "This heat is insufferable, I know."

He was absorbed in his work again, and she said truthfully, "'Tis not the heat." This was no more fun, she reflected, than any other time she had sought for Elrond to no avail, and asked the household of his whereabouts in vain. _And when he is found at last, I will be so abashed for my annoyance with him that I will say nothing of it._ She sighed. _And when next I am in need and can find him nowhere, I will go through this again, with someone else who dances with words._

"Well!" Holding up the prepared horseshoe, Glorfindel assessed it once more, and seemed satisfied at last. He said, "I am finished here all the same."

She followed him out to where Asfaloth waited, through waiting herself. Over the noise of the shoe being nailed in place, she said, "I have spoken with the stablemaster, and he said a horse will be made ready for me within the hour. And I have left Telmoth with word of my plans, though she should find no duties of mine unresolved. At this time of year, Ronduir holds the first outpost, and when I... w-what?"

He had straightened and turned to face her, no mirth discernible in the keenness of his gaze. "You would forego speaking first with Elrond, before carrying through with your plans?" Taken aback by his changed mood, Gilraen did not answer at once. The Elf's voice softened when he said, "Please, reconsider. I believe he would have words with you, and should like to see you off."

"That is as I would prefer it." Here she was careful to keep her tone devoid of blame, "But knowing not of his whereabouts or when he is expected to return, I feel compelled not to tarry on account of my ignorance." She paused, if Glorfindel would surrender any pertinent information. After his silence, she shrugged. "And since I cannot ask his counsel, I know not that he would say other than 'farewell'."

Glorfindel's smile reappeared. "Yet I have seldom known Elrond to say quite so little!"

"Maybe he would wonder at my hesitation; I would be loath to seem negligent of my duties thereby."

"More likely that he would wonder at your absence, I think."

About to respond, Gilraen noticed how Glorfindel seemed ready to do likewise, and could not but suspect that he knowingly stalled her. She sighed. "Alas that I never thought to discuss with Elrond such situations as this, so as to better guess his opinion on any given matter."

"Well, Elrond is not so unpredictable; for instance, what if you were to ask him, 'Should I depart, Master, without your blessings?'"

Gilraen smiled in turn. "I think he would give me that look of his, the one that makes me feel as a small child, and I would realize the foolishness of such a question."

"Then wait but a while; I think you shall see 'that look' soon enough!" With that, Glorfindel went back to his work, and began to sing a merry song. Its echo followed Gilraen back to the house, where she returned to make one last preparation.

In front of a mirror, she sat to braid her hair as suitable for a long ride on horseback. "Should I depart, lord, without your blessings?" She leaned forward, studying herself. "Should I remain, and assume it is free at the asking?"

Coming some time later into the stable, Gilraen was surprised to see Elrond dismounting ahead. She had not supposed he left on horseback, yet knowing that he had made her earlier efforts seem only more a waste of time. An ostler was at hand to lead his steed away, but Elrond stood in place, looking at the horse waiting saddled with Gilraen's gear.

Approaching the mare, she secured another bundle, imagining his gaze shift to her back. Her tone kept even, she said, "Obligation requires your delegate elsewhere. I ride to the Angle."

"So be it."

"Yet I go with your blessings or not at all."

"Then you may go in peace."

That he would pose no argument, nor indeed any conditions, was a relief -- then a curiosity. _Half-elven, I know you too well._ She turned, but found in his expression no cause to suspect. Furthermore, she noticed then that he was somewhat soiled, disheveled. Behind him, the horse he had ridden in on was enjoying a long drink. "No leisurely ride have you returned from."

He raised his eyes with a slight smile, perhaps amused that she thought otherwise. She tried to amend the statement, having no reason to deduce that he had taken a leisurely ride, save that in her irritation it seemed most likely; but that forgotten irritation being unmentionable, she simply stuttered until changing the subject.

"Estel is two days gone already," she said, "and I mean to be back ere he returns."

"Ten days will see you to the Angle and back, certainly. I shall look for you both before then."

Together they walked outside, Elrond speaking the condolences he wished to have relayed, and Gilraen listening intently. As such, she did not notice Glorfindel waiting outside the doors until after she had mounted. He appeared prepared for an excursion of his own, the plain clothes he wore earlier replaced with garb suitable for riding, and Asfaloth laden with traveling bags.

As she sat considering the unlikelihood of this coincidence, Asfaloth pranced closer of his own volition, then circled. Glorfindel sighed at the display. "Yes, yes, we see you!" The horse shook his mane and pawed the ground, appearing more impressed than his master. Glorfindel said to Gilraen, "This one is such a braggart, so proud of his new shoes that he must show them to everyone within view. And your mare has been eyeing the boundaries for days, hopeful of a good journey. Fit companions, us four!"

She turned from the Elf to Elrond, who looked predictably unmoved. _Or unmovable._

No sooner had Gilraen opened her mouth when Elrond said, "Had you thought to travel alone?"

His words from earlier returned to her: 'I shall look for you both.' At the time, she had assumed he spoke of herself and Estel. "Yes?"

Elrond nodded in such an indulgent but knowing manner that she felt three feet high, and as many years old. "You know the road is days long, Gilraen, perilous without an escort. And Glorfindel knows well its dangers -- the better to escort you."

"Yet the road is watched closely at this season, by your people and mine." Seeing that fail to affect, she added, "Telmoth rides alone."

"Telmoth is a warrior," said Elrond, sterner.

"Ah. Well, that I am not." She glanced to Glorfindel, noting the weapons stowed amongst his gear, in seeming contrast to the fineness of his bearing. His looks were deceptive, as any who had watched him in the sparring ring would know; still, she fancied the Angle ill-suited to lodge an Elf-lord in comfort comparable to the House of Elrond. Equally, she imagined herself a nuisance to need supervision. "I know it is not ideal, my traveling alone, but it is not unwarranted, either. I had hoped not to cause an inconvenience, and to leave as soon as may be."

"But it is my pleasure, and we may depart forthwith." Glorfindel bowed his head.

Elrond said, "And it is my word."

Gilraen looked from Elf to Half-elf, through barely narrowing eyes. She perceived no element of surprise between them, nothing to indicate that anything she had said or done struck either unexpectedly. _Elrond just returned, there was no time for him to consult with anyone else. He must have known of my plans, and assigned Glorfindel to accompany me, before leaving this morning, before I spoke to anyone of my intentions. Before even I had decided?_

Elrond still waited for her accord, so she nodded. "If you insist." Though he smiled then, and followed to bless them at the beginning of their road, for long after, Gilraen could only shake her head with pursed lips. _Elves!_

* * *


	8. Part 3 Chapter 3

* * *

Gazing up at the stars, Gilraen lay less tired and more thoughtful than the previous nights. It would be their last camp on the road before reaching the Angle, and she found some apprehension had surfaced as they neared. Frequently, her thoughts turned to Valcirion. With his passing came memories of similar incidents, Arathorn's death foremost among them. She yearned to stand beside her kinsmen against this new grievance, an urge that had not struck her so strongly for years. Yet a part of her cringed, guiltily, to know that family had been present at her own time of need, while she arrived to pay condolences weeks after Valcirion's funeral.

Beyond the campfire, she could see Glorfindel standing alert but silent nearby. He had kept watch throughout each night, she knew, and still marveled at the tirelessness of the Firstborn. _If there is rest to be had sitting in a saddle with open eyes, only an Elf could find it._

In that moment he turned towards the fire, and smiled at her. "Do you sleep as an Elf, lady, or do you sleep not at all?"

"Nay to the first, alas." She arched up to adjust the bundle ill serving as a pillow. "If I were an Elf, my body would not ache as it does after any unfamiliar use, and I could sing such sweet songs as I have heard these past days."

"As to the last, you could surely learn." Coming closer, Glorfindel crouched to tend the fire. "The wood-charms I know are not of my making, yet being no bard by trade, even I can weave them easily enough."

Gilraen paused to make a translation of an uncommon term he used, before saying, "A blessed path beneath me, and even with an Elf-lord protecting it, still I cannot sleep." At that, she sat up completely. "And I am poor company to have sat lost in my thoughts while you minded our road these past days. Forgive me that. I am grateful to you, despite what it might seem."

"Nonsense," he said softly, waving a hand. "You mourn, and I commiserate." She watched as he stood, shining in the firelight like some golden statue from an Age long past. He looked left to right, presumably listening also --a demonstration of his 'casual caution', as she thought of it-- before speaking again. "By tomorrow, we shall have seven days left to us, three of which must be reserved for our return journey. You do mean to spend the remaining four among your kinsmen, yes?"

His tone was changed, distant or calculative. "That long is not necessary, for my purpose. To pay my respects to Valcirion's family, wish well his successor... no, I should not keep you waiting four days."

His eyes widened as he replied with laughter, "Keep me waiting? But no! Elrond has set other deeds upon me to accomplish, after seeing you safely to your kinsmen. If the weather remains mild, your glad escort will require two days counting from the Angle, ere he could return to see you home." In a sober tone, he added, "Or I need not arrive so soon, if there are private ceremonies which my presence might disrupt."

Considering what she knew of elvish burial customs, Gilraen concluded that Glorfindel might feel equally as ignorant regarding that of her people. _I've spoken so little during this journey, and said nothing of my purpose. It should be no surprise that he's drawn such conclusions as that I go to a confidential service._ She explained that Valcirion's body would have been buried as soon as may be, and any formal proceedings already enacted.

"It used to be different, still would be, if not for us being strewn throughout the land as we are, and so often beset. Since I was a child, I've heard our elders bemoaning 'old ways compromised for new days'. I suppose it is inevitable."

"Aye, so it would seem."

Gilraen watched without surprise his expression turn to sadness. She had never heard an Elf speak of change with any other consequence. They agreed then that Glorfindel would depart from the Angle to return at his convenience, but within four days' time.

"Unless my mother catches sight of you, for then I fear you may be compelled to sit for a meal."

The Elf smiled. "Well, we shall see."

He moved back into the shadows, his surveillance resumed. Gilraen decided not to warn him of the truth in her statement: all in the Angle well knew that none escaped Ivorwen's kitchen unfed. She fell asleep soon after, composing a menu of dishes to Glorfindel's liking from the ingredients her mother used to keep in supply.

"Gilraen."

She looked up to meet the keen gaze, and habitually improved her posture, removing one elbow that had crept onto the table. "Yes, mother?"

Ivorwen smiled, creasing her noble but aging features. "You have been home for two days now, much to the delight of your family and friends. You do know how welcome you are, of course?" Gilraen nodded, and her mother continued with her initial tone, gracefully direct, "But you needn't have troubled yourself by making this trip to relay Elrond's condolences."

"No, I imagine Telmoth made that gesture instinctively. Even so, she does not speak for me."

"Nor is her company as pleasant!"

While her mother settled back in her chair, chuckling, Gilraen gave a noncommittal shrug, but concurred with some empathy, "Elves." Then to change the subject, "And it was no trouble for me to come."

"Yet you must leave so soon. A pity, that."

Gilraen fell quiet, reluctant to extrapolate on the logic of her schedule, that she would return in time to welcome her son home. Initially, she had spoken openly with her kinsmen of Estel, garnering varied reactions. Of his renaming, most were inclined to think it an honour. But of his continued fosterage, some were dubious; only the boldest among them spoke to her of the Angle's safety these past years, even suggesting that Arathorn's son be brought home for the remainder of his childhood. Surprised by that much, she resolved not to reveal that Estel calls Rivendell home, and Elrond father.

The older woman had stood, and spoke now over her shoulder from a counter nearby, "Oh, but your father and I are overjoyed to see you, for any reason or amount of days. Next time --and soon!-- you must bring Aragorn for a visit." Clucking her tongue, she frowned at Gilraen's correction, plunking down the dishes she brought to amplify her reply. "In my own home, I may call my grandson by his rightful name as I please. If Master Elrond is half as gracious as his reputation, he would not object as you do."

Gilraen was still smiling when her mother sat again. "Elrond is so gracious that you would name your grandson after this muffin if it was all he asked of you."

Her hand waving seemed to dismiss the possibility as much as it offered more options. "Have some fruit, too, dear, and here, we've no shortage of butter. Now! Gilbarad tells me the boy is growing into a fine young man."

Gilraen dropped her knife. "Well, Gilbarad should know better. Estel is only ten! More 'young' than 'man' by several years, I should say."

Her mother's eyes flashed knowingly over the brim of her cup. "You would say that, as his mother."

"And you would know! Having your way, I would still be living under this roof -- well," she gestured out the kitchen window, towards the house, "that roof. Too young to be a wife, too young to be a mother, too young for aught but housework. Think you that I've forgotten?"

"I think me your memory is full of more holes than mine." Ivorwen paused to admire a plump apple, from her own garden if Gilraen could judge the proud look. "That was your father who lamented those things, when it became obvious his little girl grew into a ripe woman; one who soon had every bachelor in the Angle turning his head. 'Twas _I_ who said you were more 'young' than 'lady' when those hopeful suitors came knocking, but that fact was even less of a deterrent than Dirhael's hard glare."

Together, they laughed. Once composed, Gilraen decided to defend her femininity. "It's true I was of a mind in my youth to care more for horses than embroidery. But I was not so unusual by the time I was turning heads, as you say."

Ivorwen shook her head, eyes lowered to the table, surface as worn as her hands after years of kneading and cutting and washing. "Ah, but you were. Say 'special' instead, if you prefer, but you were. And seeing it, Arathorn desired you all the more, I deem."

Gilraen felt her breath catch, and sighed just as abruptly. _I can talk about him here, name him freely._ And yet, she found nothing to say. _But everyone here knew him, and so many are lost amongst us that we speak more of the future; not like Rivendell, when I cannot reminisce aloud for fear of being overheard, though all the house echoes with stories of the past._

"Nemendil means to stay."

Blinking at the sudden change, Gilraen said, "Does he?" Of all Valcirion's children, she knew his middle son, Nemendil, least closely. He had moved away from the Angle in the same year of her marriage. Yesterday had been their first meeting since.

Her mother went on, "Returned from the Sarn Ford with his younger brother to see their father laid to rest. Of course, Rochil has a new wife that he hurried home to. But Nemendil means to stay, even to inherit his father's residence."

After a moment's deliberation, Gilraen thought she gleaned her mother's direction; as little as it pleased her, she wanted to be certain. "I'm sure his mother will be glad to have some company in that old house."

Ivorwen bristled. "It's a nice house, spacious and sound. Just needs an able woman's touch and some laughter in the halls again." Gilraen glanced up, as discouragingly as she could, but her mother's face stayed tilted away. The aged woman shrugged. "My subtlety is not what it used to be, but my foresight is sharper sometimes these days then ever before. So think not that you can discredit my words on account of their plainness. Nemendil came knocking for you, and I see no cause to turn him away."

"No." Gilraen stood, unexpectedly angered by her mother's suggestion, and to a lesser degree, hurt. She busied herself by checking that everything they had prepared for the day remained prepared, though her thoughts were more reasonable. She pictured Arathorn, an old habit never discarded; his temperament, unshakable despite any circumstances, comforted her always. And that she did still think of him only served to fortify her first impulse. "You may tell Nemendil, or I will, but the answer is and will remain no."

Calmer, she returned to the table.

"He wed, not long after you and Arathorn," said Ivorwen, as if to herself. "But she died in childbed, three summers ago; first such tragedy in a decade. Broke his heart, poor man, to lose his wife and heir. He would not so much as look at another woman over the longest time, went about electing himself for the most perilous duties and would not be gainsaid. Seeing him now though, even in the wake of his father's passing, he is clearly much improved. Nay, he'll not again be ruled by grief. Ah, you did not even suspect such an ordeal had befallen him, did you?"

Nemendil had looked to Gilraen twenty winters beyond his age, and indeed, she had failed at first to recognize him. But she said, "No, I did not wonder," before smiling beseechingly. "As I recall, Nemendil has always been a strong man. Alas for his ill fortune, yet if he has overcome the worst of it, I am heartened. Now let us do likewise, and speak of something else! I was amazed that father and Glorfindel had such a long conversation when we supped together. Did I tell you --wise Elf-lord though be may be-- that Glorfindel doubted he would be convinced to stay for even one meal?"

"I was about your age, thirty-four years past, when I brought you into this world, as was my sister when she bore your cousin Artanel."

Gilraen rested her head in her hands. "Mother, please, be not so stubborn."

"I am stubborn, as any woman should be after a half century of being right more often than not." Her tone changed to gentle persuasion, "My only care is for you, Gilraen. Would children, a family, not bring joy anew into your life?"

Just then, Dirhael stepped into the kitchen, the room falling silent as suddenly. Gilraen sat facing the door, and saw her father's face betray immediate discomfort. She suspected that he had some idea of what subject his entrance had interrupted. Also, she thought to glean his opinion on the matter; that he stood no more willing than she to argue with Ivorwen.

She went to take from his arms the wood he had gone out to chop. "Thank you, father." Then turning to the table, "Mother, I _have_ a child, the grace of a family so extended that I am still learning their many names, and good reason for living as I do. Nemendil is a fine man and I wish him well, but the path he seeks is not mine. I am going into the house now, and if you sit with me by the fire, I would tell you about your grandson, the people he loves, the house Arathorn wished his heir to grow up in, and why. Will you not come?"

Ivorwen arose, standing wordlessly for a moment before collecting a tray. "If it would make you happy."

_It is not about me,_ Gilraen bit her tongue to refrain from saying. As they walked together towards the house and the setting sun, she heard her father release a long breath.

They had spent a full day on the trail, riding as hard as possible to make up for lost time, though encumbered by the results of recent rainfall. After setting a meal to heat, Gilraen crouched close by the campfire, warming her hands. Soon Glorfindel joined her.

"Our path should become easier, the further we go. I believe the storm turned west nigh here. If we can maintain this pace, our arrival should be on time after all. Oh, are you cold?"

Gladly, Gilraen moved closer to his side, her chills subsiding the moment his arm draped around her. They remained thus for a moment. "That tea will not boil faster from my eager stare, will it?"

Glorfindel laughed. "Nor from ours both combined, I fear."

She nodded, and sought for diversion in the absence of a hot drink. "You said that rain had plagued you on your road, but I meant to ask, was your mission accomplished despite the delay?"

"To Elrond's satisfaction, I hope." His voice turned thoughtful. "But I would not mind setting out again, even soon. Rivendell, not unlike any Elf-realm, is an island in many ways, beyond which the world moves quite differently. Almost an Elf can travel from Elrond's House to Lothlórien without getting wet. But if we intend to dwell offshore unenchanted land at need or desire, it is wise knowing what to expect."

They disentangled momentarily, settling close again with steaming mugs in hand. "And you, lady? Your family seemed well, when I last supped at their table. But had you other business with the Angle?"

"Yes. It is settled. Gilbarad is determined to visit Rivendell before long, and more often. In the meantime, I have brought his missives for Elrond. I think I will not have need to return soon."

"Had you desired to?"

She considered that for a moment, next considering how to put her feelings into words, and words an Elf would best understand. At length, she said, "It is good to be home."

* * *


End file.
